


Catalyst

by rocketchick (wankernumber9)



Series: Chemistry [2]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-16 03:28:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8084944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wankernumber9/pseuds/rocketchick
Summary: Catalyst (n): a substance that causes or accelerates a chemical reaction without itself being affected.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Continuation of the ME2 story, "Reagent." Some liberties taken with the canon Shadow Broker storyline, with further liberties to come. :)
> 
> Thanks to all who have read/commented! I'm reviving my older ME fic, and should have more to post soon.

She'd read the same paragraph in the intelligence report eight times, but the words remained a meaningless blur. Frustrated, Jane tossed the infopad away, then pressed her hands to her eyes and sank back into the couch.

At the desk on the other side of the Loft's clear partition, Liara shifted in her seat, a tiny movement barely audible over the normal hum of the ship's support systems. Jane focused on the sound, savoring the presence of the woman sharing her quarters.

More agonizing than losing the original _Normandy_ , she'd lost Liara. They'd lost two years together, and Liara had nearly lost her soul. After so long apart and the trials of finally reuniting, some part of her still feared that she'd never truly get their relationship back. There was only so much Cerberus could rebuild.

Still focused on the other woman's movement, Jane heard Liara shut down the computer station and stand, then step down into the living area. Jane opened her eyes to see Liara peering at her in concern. She reached out, which Liara took as an invitation to approach and kneel on the couch, straddling Jane's lap.

"You appear distracted, Commander," she said in a low murmur, settling in as she rested her hands on Jane's shoulders.

Jane directed a lazy smile up at her, realizing that her anxiety was plainly obvious to her bondmate. "I am. And it's your fault," she said. Her own hands rose to slide around Liara's hips, pulling her closer. "I'm so glad you're here."

"I am glad, as well," Liara said. "Though if I'd known your new quarters were such an improvement over the previous _Normandy_ , I would have joined you sooner."

It was a pleasant lie, one that sidestepped two years of pain and separation. Jane sighed, and fought the urge to wallow in regret. "So, anything new out there?" she asked, with a tilt of her head to indicate Liara's ongoing research.

"Nothing in particular. Few suspect the Shadow Broker has been destroyed, and even fewer care. Information flows as it always did, and now the Shadow Broker's remaining agents answer largely to me."

"And just like that, you turn the entire galactic intelligence industry on its head," Jane said, shaking her head. She was still impressed, especially knowing the burden Liara had borne to make it happen. "Amazing."

"Which is why, despite your distraction, you are fortunate to have me aboard, Commander," Liara said with a mischievous look. "I am _very_ good at what I do, and I can make sure you don't miss anything important." She leaned in closer to tug delicate fingertips through Jane's hair. "Like the fact that EDI turned off the ship's internal alert protocols eighteen minutes ago."

"Mm," Jane hummed in agreement, as she turned into the caress. Then she blinked and pulled back. "Wait, what? EDI?"

"Go ahead, Commander," came the AI's immediate response.

"Why are the internal alerts disabled?"

"Internal alert protocols were deactivated under authority of Operative Lawson. No reason logged."

Jane's eyes narrowed. "And where is Operative Lawson right now?" she asked.

"She is on the Engineering deck, section six."

"Thank you, EDI," Jane said, dismissing the AI even though she never actually went away. She fixed her gaze back on Liara, who gave her a knowing smile in return. "Suppose I need to go check on things," Jane said.

"That would be prudent," Liara replied.

She sighed and reluctantly extricated herself from under Liara's warmth, then stood and smoothed the creases in her uniform. "Got any more information tucked away?"

"None that I am willing to share until I am properly compensated," Liara said as she sat with a prim look. "My services are not free, Commander."

Jane grinned, then bent to kiss her. "I'll think of something," she promised.

* * *

"I'm assuming there's a good explanation for this."

Miranda turned from the viewport over the hangar bay to face her commanding officer, automatically straightening to attention. "Commander," she greeted, not bothering to offer any explanation, good or otherwise.

Jane frowned and stepped closer, looking down at the knot of _Normandy's_ crew as they clapped and cheered. In the the middle of the action, Jack and Grunt were squaring off in a battle of biotics versus brawn. "EDI tells me you overrode her alert protocol," she said.

"Aye, Commander," Miranda replied. "On the condition that I maintain strict personal oversight during the bouts."

"'Bouts?'" Jane asked. She lifted her eyebrows in surprise, annoyed that she'd been oblivious to this sort of activity on her own ship. "As in 'more than one?' Does this happen often?"

"Only when there's a gap between near-death missions to save the galaxy," Miranda said with a wry look. "It helps the crew blow off steam, and some of the matches have been quite educational. Thane was especially instructive."

Shepard exhaled slowly and tried to set aside her pique to acknowledge her 2IC's intentions. She nodded toward the fight in progress below. "Is it really a good idea to put Jack in an arena again?" she asked.

"She volunteered for the very first match, back before the Omega Four mission. She's sparred regularly ever since."

"And you're okay with that?" Jane asked, guessing the answer from the sudden tension in Miranda's posture.

"Not entirely," Miranda admitted. "But I think she needs this, more than the others do." She canted her head, considering Jack's current opponent. "Except possibly for Grunt. They both require a similar outlet, which makes sense... They were both bred and conditioned to fight. It's who they are."

"Who they were made to be," Jane said.

"She _is_ more than the sum of a few habituated responses," Miranda snapped, automatically defensive.

Jane raised her hands in apology, then leaned against a nearby bulkhead. "Of course she is. But Grunt? I'm not so sure. _We're_ the ones writing the textbook on tank-bred krogan. Who knows how he'll react when he's provoked?"

"She can take care of herself," Miranda countered. She relaxed a bit, and watched as Jack danced just outside the radius of Grunt's limited reach, teasing the krogan while the rest of the crew cheered her on. "I actually think it helps her forget about Pragia," the operative said, quiet and pensive. "She forgets to worry that everyone's going to hurt her."

Confused, Jane shook her head. "While fighting an alien who could snap her in half?" she asked.

"I know that's counterintuitive, but the fights are very controlled," Miranda said, gesturing to the action below, where Grunt had lowered his head to charge. Jack rolled out of the way with a confident grin, then bounced up behind him and delivered a biotic throw that sent him crashing to the deck. "If someone gets hurt, they stop. If someone goes too far, they stop. If Jack feels threatened, she can walk away. It's not about rewarding relentless aggression. It's about trust."

Indeed, both fighters' movements were composed, almost leisurely, and Grunt's low rumbling laugh reverberated through the deck. "Well, it's unique, I'll give you that," Jane said. "Probably Kelly's idea," she added, under her breath.

Miranda smiled, remembering the day Chambers had indeed made the suggestion, along with bogus justification about Shepard's latitude for therapeutic exercise.

It had been an extreme gamble, sneaking around Shepard to let the crew beat the stuffing out of each other. Miranda almost regretted taking the risk, especially during the first match, when Garrus had tripped Jack with a surprisingly agile leg sweep, taking her swiftly to the deck. The moment drew out with uncomfortable strain while Jack lay there and blinked at Garrus in shock.

Miranda had tensed, ready to head off Jack's inevitable violent tantrum. She was already composing her apology to Shepard when Jack confounded all her expectations. Again.

With a shrug, Jack gamely pushed back to her feet and dusted herself off. "Well, fuck. I didn't even know turians could _bend_ that way," she said, rolling her shoulders.

That startled a laugh out of Garrus. "Had an old friend who insisted on the benefits of being 'flexible,'" he explained.

"Sounds kinky," Jack replied. "Show me."

They'd settled in to a less intense exchange that was more about trading technique than it was trying to overpower each other. When they were both exhausted, Garrus dipped his head in respect and wandered back to his station, while Kelly and the rest of the crew who'd gathered to watch dispersed with happy chatter, analyzing the fight.

Before leaving, Jack stopped and gave Miranda an appraising look, then nodded in satisfaction. "Next time, I wanna see _your_ moves, Cheerleader," she'd said, as she breezed past the operative on her way back into the bowels of the ship.

Now, months later, Miranda recalled her sudden, unexpected jolt of answering attraction with a smile. Afterward, she'd let the fights continue, even though she pretended the effort wasn't mostly for the sake of Jack's approval.

Jane split her observation between the fight and Miranda, watching the evident pride and affection her first officer had for the woman playing to the crowd below. She couldn't dispute that Kelly's unorthodox suggestion had likely fostered a great deal of cohesion on an unorthodox team, but the subterfuge still rankled. "Miranda, I know you care about her," Jane said in a quiet, stern voice. "And I appreciate the lengths you'll go to for her, but if that makes you hide things from me on _my_ ship, we're going to have a problem."

Miranda straightened, abashed and just a little angry. "It was never my intention to... I didn't..." After stuttering a bit she shook her head, dismissing her own excuses. "You're right. I apologize, Commander. It won't happen again."

Jane nodded and shifted back out of command mode, accepting her sincerity. "Good. Just make sure they don't do any serious damage. To each other or to the hangar."

"Yes, ma'am," Miranda said, risking a smile. "May I ask how Liara figured it out?"

She shrugged, and didn't even bother to pretend she had discovered the shipboard anomaly on her own. Miranda and Liara had a history she didn't fully understand, and since most of it had to do with the quest to bring Jane herself back to life, she didn't find it much worth worrying about. "If I had to guess, I'd say she hacked EDI's monitoring systems to watch what you're watching," she said.

"She's good," Miranda declared, with obvious respect. "Glad she's on our side." She watched as Shepard smiled, with that tiny look of contentment she always had when reminded of her bondmate.

The commander pointed down at the fight, where Jack had sent Grunt tumbling into a stack of spare power cells. "I'm glad _she's_ on our side," Jane countered. "So long as nobody gets hurt." She winced at Grunt's crash and subsequent roar as she left her crew to their recreation.

Miranda watched her go, then folded her arms and returned her full attention to the fight. Despite assurances to Shepard, Miranda was well aware that people so skilled at violence did not always have the ability to restrain their instincts. More than once, Mordin had scurried down to the cargo hold to patch up a crewmate on the losing end of a "friendly" bout. In Mordin's absence, Miranda had stepped up her own vigilance, watching for signs of frayed temper or bruised ego that could lead to a dangerous mistake.

The trick was making sure neither combatant exceeded their threshold of sportsmanship. Jack and Grunt in particular had very finite limits, and if they were pushed too far, somebody could easily end up dead.

This time, her cue came when Grunt caught Jack with a wild elbow to the teeth, and Miranda jerked as if struck herself. She could see the anger coiling in Jack's posture, and she hurried to call the match before Grunt ended up smeared across a bulkhead.

"I am certain you all have duties to attend to," she called to the gathered crowd, sharp with authority. To their credit, the crew immediately snapped to, and filed out of the hangar bay.

Grunt paced and panted for a moment longer, letting the blood rage dissipate before he clapped his hands and followed them out, having sated his battle lust for the time being.

After he left, Jack wiped the back of her hand across her split lip, then looked at Miranda with an expectant smirk. "Aw, Mom, can't we play for a few more minutes?"

"Not unless _you_ want to explain why the newest member of the Urdnot clan was ripped in half by a biotic field," Miranda said, folding her arms. "Grunt hasn't yet figured out when he's lost."

"That was pretty good, wasn't it?" Jack asked, bouncing a bit on the balls of her feet. "Did you see the part where I got him overbalanced and he crashed into the reserve power cells?"

"You did well," Miranda allowed. "But your left guard is sloppy. He almost flanked you twice."

Jack snorted. "Oh, _whatever_. Like that overgrown turtle is gonna get around me?"

They had started circling each other, and Jack lifted her hands a bit in reflexive defense. Miranda gave her a sly smile, feeling the familiar spark flare between them. In another life, Miranda might have been disturbed by the notion that violence would spike her hormones. In this life, she'd seen and survived enough that it actually seemed logical for two warriors to consider fighting a form of foreplay.

"Maybe he wouldn't have taken advantage. But _I_ know all your weaknesses," she said.

"Name one," Jack said with a sneer.

"Me."

Jack barked in laughter. "Bring it, Cheerleader."

In answer to that challenge, Miranda lowered her shoulder and charged, unleashing a biotic blast that Jack easily deflected. They whirled and traded blows in an almost static battle of will, straining against each others' defenses without pushing too far.

Finally the operative ducked around an attack and cast out a hand, tossing a small biotic throw that pushed Jack backward into a stack of storage crates Grunt hadn't toppled. Miranda advanced, calculating their exposure to prying eyes from the windows above and the security cameras in the bay, and figured they had a few minutes of relative privacy.

Jack stayed still as she approached, breathing hard as Miranda's scent and heat inflamed her senses.

"You still never see me coming," Miranda growled.

"Bullshit," Jack said with a haughty grin. "I see that every day."

Miranda was already leaning in, and exhaled an amused noise just before their lips met. In its own way, the kiss was simply a continuation of the duel. Every advance met a defense, and every push met equal resistance. At some point they shifted, and Miranda found herself turned and pressed between the unyielding composite of ammo storage and the sinuous strength of Jack's embrace. It occurred to her to fight back and reclaim the upper hand, but instead she indulged in rare surrender, pulling the other woman closer and sinking into the heady sensation as Jack braced one hand against the ammo container while the other curled at Miranda's hip.

It was Jack who ultimately broke away, looking dazed and a bit embarrassed by her own enthusiasm while they both regained their breath.

"You're not the only one who gets warm feelings from a fight," Miranda admitted, with a leer. She ran a thumb across the faint smear of blood Jack's split lip had left behind.

Jack frowned, and would have backed away if not for the operative's gentle hand still at her back, keeping her close. "You realize that's pretty twisted, right?"

With a shrug, Miranda dismissed the question and set about adjusting her hair and clothing to look slightly less ravished.

Jack turned her gaze to the windows above them. "Did Shepard give you a hard time?"

"A little. But I convinced her that the fight was actually an exercise in team building and trust."

Jack finally slipped away to grab the towel she'd brought with her. She slung it around her neck and wandered toward the exit, pausing to make sure Miranda was going to follow. "Do you think she'd buy that shit if it was anybody else but me?"

"Possibly," Miranda said. "Does it matter?"

"I dunno." She wandered off course a bit, pensive as she wrapped her fists in the ends of the towel dangling over her shoulders. "I just don't like being the fragile nutjob who gets special treatment 'cause she might snap and kill everybody."

Miranda stepped closer and gave her a steady, honest gaze. "That's not what this was about."

Jack snorted and looked away, indulging in a skeptical pout. After a moment she freed one hand from the towel and reached out to hook her fingers into Miranda's, tugging the other woman closer to study the contrast of tattooed skin against glove.

Miranda wound her fingers around Jack's and enjoyed the incongruent moment of closeness. Jack's occasional shy vulnerability was oddly charming, as she cautiously learned to tread the space of human intimacy that spanned between the extremes of fighting and fucking.

"You're not fragile, and you're not actually a nutjob," Miranda said quietly, hoping not to chase off the mood. "But even if you did get special treatment, so what? Shepard cares about you. She'd do a lot more than bend a couple rules for your benefit."

Jack heaved a sigh, but didn't respond.

Miranda reached up with her free hand to brush gentle fingertips across Jack's temple. "Meet me for dinner later?" she asked, deciding the topic was best set aside.

"Yeah, okay." Jack released her hold and stepped away, but stopped one last time before descending the steps toward her makeshift quarters. "Having friends is weird," she declared. "You know?"

"It really is," Miranda agreed with a smile.


	2. Chapter 2

Jack was wide awake.

In itself, this state was wholly unremarkable. She rarely slept well, having been conditioned for so long to react - often with reflexive violence - to the slightest stimulus. Proper sleep required a sense of complacency she had never, ever allowed herself, except when her body was on the verge of sheer collapse.

"Sleep" meant "safe." And Jack couldn't remember the last time she felt safe.

Except...

She was sprawled on her side in Miranda Lawson's bed, naked and exposed to the _Normandy's_ cool night air. Beside her, Miranda lay on her back, under a mess of tangled covers. Her hair was wildly tousled around her head, and her mouth hung open as she breathed in the tiniest, most ridiculous and genetically-perfect snore.

Jack propped a hand against her chin and studied Miranda's starlit profile with a scowl. 

There really _wasn't_ anything unusual about the night thus far. After dinner they'd had the usual vigorous, wildly entertaining sex, followed by the usual post-coital snuggle while Miranda made the usual last check of her daily intelligence reports and Jack made the usual attempts to distract her. Eventually Miranda set aside her infopad and settled in to sleep.

That was all pretty predictable, and not what had Jack so unsettled. She scowled and flexed her toes to latch onto a stray bit of sheet and pull it closer, then tucked it around her feet.

Miranda twitched in response, and turned toward Jack, reaching out with uncharacteristically clumsy fingers. "Y'okay?" she slurred, not even bothering to open her eyes.

Jack caught the wandering hand in her own before she could get smacked in the face. "Yeah," she whispered. "Go back to sleep."

With a faint murmur that could have been a response, Miranda settled back into her pillow. Her mouth had curved into a tiny, gentle smile, and her fingers tangled around Jack's.

Jack held her breath for a long moment to ensure the other woman had actually fallen asleep. When Miranda finally emitted a slightly different (ridiculous, annoying, perfect) snore, Jack exhaled and her body went limp, though she remained far from relaxed.

Sleep still eluded her, so she stared at Miranda's fingers as they relaxed and came untangled from her own, and unpracticed one of the mostly-bullshit reflective exercises Kelly had insisted she learn. With effort, she forced her brain to work on the current mess of sensation roiling in her gut.

It wasn't fear, exactly. Her fight-or-flight responses were well honed, and there were simply no bad guys to fight here. Directly behind her was a bulkhead of reinforced alloy a Reaper would need a rail gun to get through. In front of her was one of the strongest, most capable, and deadly humans she had ever met. Two decks away was the goddamned savior of the galaxy, who had literally come back from the dead just to snuggle with her girlfriend. There wasn't a bigger badass who could be a better ally.

Despite her well-founded cynicism, Jack _knew_ that Shepard, T'soni, Miranda, and probably a bunch of other naive idiots on the ship would literally stand in between her and a bullet. No harm would come to her so long as those people had a say.

Still, it was hard to forget the inescapable lessons learned from behind a pane of glass in a lab in an overgrown jungle: "Sleep" meant "safe."

There, "safe" meant fighting hard enough to be the biggest threat in the room, which was good for a few minutes' respite at a time. It meant constant, agonizing tests and the seething hatred of her fellow experiments.

Here, "safe" meant Shepard, the _Normandy_ , and her crew. It meant knock-down drag-out but strangely friendly fights in the cargo bay, Sergeant Gardner leaving her leftovers in the galley, and Kelly gently prodding her toward slightly-less homicidal iterations of mental health.

But if she was honest, "safe" _truly_ meant Miranda. It meant lying in the dark, body bare, eyes open, heart vulnerable, in this bed, with this woman.

And shit, that made no fucking sense. For some reason, Miranda had peeked behind the glass, considered the crazy-ass view, and stuck around.

All of which was how she found herself in bed with a former Cerberus operative, staring at deceptively delicate fingers, feeling _safe_ \- safe to be touched, to be cared for, to be snored at, and maybe even to be loved.

Jack frowned at that ultimate conclusion, and tried to find a reason to refute it. Her brain didn't get very far before it spun down and dropped her into rare, deep sleep.

* * *

Kelly smiled at Jack as she entered the comm room. Jack didn't so much "arrive" in a place so much as "storm in," and after getting over her initial alarm, Kelly found the phenomenon predictable and oddly endearing.

"Hey," Jack said, as she flopped heavily into a chair.

"Good morning, Jack," Kelly said pleasantly. "How are you?"

Jack shrugged.

Kelly nodded, and turned her attention to her infopad to scroll through Shepard's enormous queue of messages, flagging a few to make it to the Commander's inbox. She was by now used to the cadence of a meeting with Jack, and knew it would take some time for the other woman to work her way toward whatever was bothering her.

A few minutes later, Jack heaved a sigh, which was Kelly's cue to pay attention. She set down the infopad, folded her hands, and waited.

"Miranda wants me to meet her sister," Jack said. "Kind of. She's arranged another move for Oriana's family, and asked me to be there." She shrugged. 

Kelly nodded. "And what do you think about that?"

"I think it's bullshit," Jack growled. "Glorified guard dog duty."

"Hm. Well, I think it's sweet," Kelly replied.

The look Jack gave her was a scalding combination of horror and annoyance. " _Sweet?!_ "

"Of course," Kelly said. "Oriana is the only family tie Miranda values. If she wants you two to meet - if she trusts you to help her protect her sister's family - that clearly demonstrates how much she values _you_ , as well."

Jack gave no indication of hearing that sentiment. Instead she stared into space as her fingertips pressed into the alloy surface of the conference table. Kelly watched her and allowed herself only a moment's appreciation the powerful play of muscle, tendon, and biotics all contained in that hand before snapping back to her detached, therapeutic persona.

"I'm gonna end up doing something stupid," Jack declared. "I'll kick her pet varren or insult her shitty family or something."

"You might," Kelly mused. "Families can be stressful. But it could be worse. Shepard _killed_ Doctor T'soni's mother when they met."

"Well, fuck," Jack spat. "Just one more way I'll never measure up."

That was a golden opportunity Kelly wasn't likely to ignore. "Do you often compare yourself directly to Commander Shepard like that?" she asked, with a curious tilt of her head.

"Do you _often_ ask completely fucking idiotic questions?" Jack replied, with venom. "Everyone on this ship is trying to be Shepard, all the time."

Kelly considered that statement for a moment. "You think so?"

"Yeah?" Jack replied, drawing out the word like Chambers was the stupidest human to grace the plane of the galaxy.

With a thoughtful look, Kelly started ticking off facts about their leader. "Shepard was born into poverty, with no family save a gang of children who banded together to try to at least _eat_ regularly. As a junior lieutenant barely survived the Skyllian Blitz, and instead of letting her in any way process that event, the Alliance promoted her and put her on the fast track toward the Spectre program, which is by definition the most lonely human job in the galaxy."

"She can handle it," Jack interjected.

"True, but it seems to me that her abilities and alliances just paint that much larger a target on her back," Kelly mused. "And most sentients in the galaxy simultaneously fear her and dread what happens if she cannot single-handedly save us all from the Reapers. It must be exhausting."

Jack opened her mouth to argue further, but Kelly was on a roll.

"And yes, she is quite possibly the most capable human soldier that has ever lived, but that comes at the cost of being mostly cybernetic, and owing a great deal of her current existence to a human supremacy organization she fundamentally loathes. While she doesn't often like to admit it, sometimes she isn't certain she actually _is_ herself anymore after what Project Lazarus had to do to restore her."

Jack swallowed and looked away. This kind of shit was why she didn't _do_ "nuance." Fuck.

"I think most of us are relieved _not_ to be Shepard," Kelly observed. "I think we're glad she is who she is, and that we don't have to carry those burdens day after day." She cocked her head, looking squarely at Jack. "But _you_ want to be like her. Why?"

Jack just sat there with her mouth hanging open, and managed a remarkably inarticulate bleat before she closed it again.

"How about you think that over?" Kelly asked cheerfully, as she gathered her infopad and stood. "Then make another appointment with me when you're ready to talk about it?" 

"Wait, no," Jack complained, finally regaining her voice and looking just a bit panicked as Kelly moved to leave. "Fucking hell, Chambers! I need help with Miranda's sister, and you just gave me a whole other problem."

"I did, didn't I?" Kelly asked with a grin. She laid a comforting hand on Jack's shoulder before she sauntered out of the comm room. "Good luck with Oriana. I hear she's a lovely person. Try not to kill her."

Jack huffed in exasperation. "You're really terrible at this shit!" she yelled at Chambers' back.

"So are you!" Kelly returned over her shoulder, as the door slid shut.

* * *

In the cargo bay, Miranda took advantage of a rare quiet shift to clean up the mess from the previous day's brawl and catalog the latest shipment of weapons from a grey market contact.

She set up a comfortable, repetitive flow: uncrate, inspect, inventory, designate for resale, parts, or crew use. It was rote, mindless work that let her mind wander off to more pleasant topics...

... like how she'd woken up _happy_ that morning, and how that was happening more and more frequently, in Jack's unlikely company.

Jack wasn't one for fuzzy, snuggly intimacy. Neither was Miranda, in all honesty. In her previous relationships, sex was more a means to a satisfying end than a way of achieving any kind of deep, personal connection.

But every once in a while with Jack, between a slick grind and an primal shudder, their eyes would meet, and Miranda could feel... everything. Like every inch of skin in contact with Jack's had caught fire.

(Any resultant biotic charring of the furniture in her cabin was strictly coincidental.)

Despite her own claim that Jack wasn't "fragile," Miranda was well aware that Jack did require careful handling, lest she perceive affection as some kind of attack.

Still, they were growing steadily closer, and Miranda couldn't stop the smile that shaped her lips as she thought about it.

"You appear to be enjoying your work this morning, Operative Lawson," Liara observed, as she paused by one of the weapons crates and assumed her typical observant pose.

Miranda grinned outright, as she looked down the sights of a particularly destructive shotgun. "I am, thank you," she replied.

With a crisp nod, Liara got to business. "I wanted to update you on the latest Cerberus chatter regarding your sister," she said, then held out an infopad for Miranda's inspection. "There is almost no activity on any of her known code designations."

Miranda grit her teeth as she looked over the report. "So they've changed their ciphers, or they're going quiet to hide something," she muttered. "Damn."

"That is my assessment as well," Liara agreed. "I'm sorry."

"All the more reason to risk moving her again," Miranda said. She handed back the infopad with a grim look. "Thank you, Doctor."

Liara canted her head with a small smile. "Liara," she corrected gently. "You have been a friend to Jane, and I would like to consider you the same."

Miranda paused, analyzing the offer. She and Liara had a standoffish, if pragmatic, functional working relationship, and she recognized an olive branch when she saw it. She dipped her head in acknowledgment. " _Liara_ ," she agreed. "I'd like that as well."

Liara immediately relaxed. "Thank you. And I apologize if I got you in any trouble yesterday," she added.

Miranda waved her off. "No harm done. I should have brought it up to the Commander months ago."

"'Months ago,'" Liara repeated, in a low murmur. "Of course." She fidgeted with the infopad, keeping her eyes pointed at the deck. "I have been meaning to thank you for that, actually."

"For what?" Miranda asked, in some puzzlement.

"For being here when I was not," Liara replied. "When I could not be." She took a deep, ragged breath, and fought off tears. "You were there for her. You brought her back, and I will never be able to repay you for that." Her expression was unfocused, preoccupied with her own pain, and she started when she felt Miranda's hand press gently to her shoulder.

"There's no debt owed," Miranda said softly. "Not for her."

While Liara took a moment to compose herself, Miranda rubbed her arm in comfort and sighed. It had taken her a long time to realize the onus Liara and Shepard had each carried on behalf of The Mission, and shamefully longer still to recognize her own responsibility for the callous barbarity Cerberus had wreaked across the galaxy.

"I don't regret the Lazarus Project," Miranda said after a long moment. "But I do regret the pain it caused you both."

Liara gave her a grateful, understanding look. "We are... recovering," she said finally. With a final sigh, her customary reserved demeanor returned as she eyeballed the shotgun in Miranda's grasp. "I was not aware we had received any new Ariake Technologies provisions."

Miranda grinned, appreciating the change of subject. "This one's claimed already, but if anything else comes through I'll let you know."

"Do you need help?" Liara asked hopefully, as she peered at the other supply crates.

* * *

Sometime later - after Liara had absconded with several high-end weapons for her own personal use - Jack wandered in, chewing idly on a ration bar.

"Hey," she said, around a mouthful of crumbs. She perched on one of the crates and looked idly at the shotgun Miranda had been admiring earlier. "Nice," she announced.

"Yours," Miranda replied, without looking up. She scowled at the sticky trigger mechanism on a substandard pistol, tossed it aside for scrap, and grabbed another. "If you want to claim it before it falls into Williams' inventory."

"Fuck _yes_ ," Jack answered. She hefted the weapon and tilted it back across one shoulder. "Still doing that thing for your sister?" she asked, in a tone that tried very hard for "casually interested."

Worry spiked through Miranda again at the reminder of the Cerberus threat chasing after her family. "Yes," she answered.

"Still want me with you?"

Miranda didn't even have to think about it. "Always," she said, in a low tone that barely crossed the space between them.

Jack nodded, finished her ration, and wiped her hand on her pants. "Then I'll be there," she said simply.

And there it was again - that feeling that prickled across her skin like a biotic charge. Miranda couldn't help but notice how they were both holding weapons while having this quietly momentous conversation.

"Thank you," she said, with a genuine smile.

Jack smiled back a little uncertainly until she noticed the heavy sentiment hanging thick in the air, then she panicked, took her shotgun, and fled.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
